


And They Were Neighbors

by Dr_Wahoo



Series: Kunugigaoka Faculty Bonding [1]
Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: (also there’s background lesbian agents), Domesticity, Friendship, Gen, Genderfluid Korosensei, Humor, Light Angst, Multi, Sickfic near the end, but can be interpreted as platonic or queerplatonic as well, it’s up to you :D, pre-Korosensei/Karasuma if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22052971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Wahoo/pseuds/Dr_Wahoo
Summary: Karasuma had his walls. Of course, having someone like Korosensei as a neighbor brought them crashing down. But as time passes, he finds himself minding less and less.————(Or: Snapshots of Korosensei and Karasuma being neighbors for security reasons.)
Relationships: Karasuma Tadaomi & Korosensei
Series: Kunugigaoka Faculty Bonding [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1600096
Comments: 26
Kudos: 71





	And They Were Neighbors

**Author's Note:**

> I normally don’t watch anime, but Assassination Classroom snuck its way into my heart before tearing it apart! I loved watching all of the characters and their respective arcs and relationships with each other. The most intriguing one to me personally was the banter between Karasuma and Korosensei. All it took was an offhanded remark that they might have been friends under different circumstances, and I suddenly wanted to explore that side of their dynamic. 
> 
> Several thousand words later, here we are! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Karasuma fit his keys into the lock. The tumblers clicked into place, and the door swung open. “This is your—”

A yellow blur zipped past him.

“…apartment," he finished, brushing his tie out of his face. 

“Oh, it’s very cozy! And there’s so much counter space!”

The target eagerly opened and closed cupboards in the kitchenette. Several duplicates of his blurred around the apartment, looking out the windows and testing the couch cushions. They eventually melded back into a singular entity whose tentacles strayed to the stove and fiddled with its dials.

“Hey, quit messing with those. We don’t want to burn the place down already.”

"You wound me, Karasuma! Don’t you trust me?” 

“I’m more concerned about safety.”

“Oho! _My_ safety?” the target teased, flashing green stripes. 

“Mine as the one living next door.”

“…oh.”

Karasuma stepped into the room, noticing with some approval that the target’s head barely brushed against its high ceilings. A few tentacles already busied themselves with unpacking his massive backpack.

“What do you even have in there?”

“The essentials, of course! My lesson plans, my teaching materials, my toiletries, my disguises…”

“Which reminds me. We need to go over the ground rules.”

Karasuma blinked, and the target was suddenly wearing a cadet’s uniform. He saluted with an impish grin. “Sir, yes sir!”

“Does ‘being on your best behavior’ include stealing a uniform?”

His grin faltered. “Uh…”

“Just put it back,” Karasuma sighed. 

The target disappeared and then reappeared without the uniform, sheepishly shuffling his tentacles. 

“There’s no need for that or any disguises here, not when everyone already knows about you. It’s still the usual protocol for being in public, though. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Good. As for this location, it's completely locked down at 10 pm. No loud gatherings or guests are allowed after that time. There isn’t a cleaning service, either, so you’re responsible for keeping your own place clean. I’m your handler, not your maid.”

“Of course not! I can take care of myself just fine.”

Karasuma raised an eyebrow. 

“…most of the time.”

The other eyebrow went up.

“Some of the…? Oh, really now!” the target spluttered, flushing red.

“Just don’t do anything that would get both of us in trouble with my superiors. Try to keep things quiet and subtle.”

“I’ll have you know I can be plenty subtle!”

“You’re welcome to prove it,” Karasuma said dryly. He turned away and reached for the door again.

“Wait.”

“Yes?”

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw something soften in those beady eyes. “Thank you for arranging this, Karasuma. It couldn’t have been easy.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s not for your comfort, but to keep the kids from—” 

“Becoming too sympathetic if I kept sleeping in the school. Yes, I know. So thank you.”

Lacking a reply to that sincere demeanor, Karasuma settled for a quick nod before closing the door behind him. 

  
  


************************************

  
  


Late afternoon light seeped through the curtains of the plain and sparsely furnished apartment. Sighing, Karasuma set down his briefcase and sat on the couch. He glanced at the microwave clock. Several hours remained until nightfall. 

_Time to get a new lesson plan ready,_ he decided. _The kids did pretty well today. We need to keep that up._

He opened his laptop, starting to type an outline for the next few days. 

_Judging by how they handled morning warm-ups, I should—_

“Ohhhh, mio babbiiiino carro!”

Karasuma startled at the sudden wail. 

“Mi piace, è bello, bello…”

_The hell?! Is that Italian?_

He heard the sound of running water alongside the shrieking, both of which emanated through the wall opposite him. They throbbed behind his temples in a budding migraine and seemed to rise in volume with each passing second. 

“Sì, sì, ci voglio andare!”

Gears turned in his head. He added everything up: the running water, the wailing in Italian and the tenant of the next-door apartment. A conclusion emerged.

_I’m hearing the target sing in the shower._

“Mi struggo e mi tormento! O Dio, vorrei morir!”

_…and he’s not stopping…_

Karasuma stood up and started for the door. That’s when another voice, a loud and traitorous voice, spoke in his own head.

_You_ really _want to tell him off? Go ahead! Risk seeing him naked!_

He froze. 

“Babbo, pietá, pietá!”

The off-key singing jarred him from his thoughts. Stiffly, he turned away from the door and reached for his briefcase.

_I’ve got to have earplugs in there somewhere._

  
  


**************************************

  
  


Talia Reynolds, a tall and dark-skinned woman, leaned back and looked at Karasuma. She adjusted her ponytail while keeping her sharp gaze focused on his face. “So, are my cameras broken, or does he like singing in the shower?”

“…I’ve learned he’s a fan of opera.”

“Seriously? You kidding me?”

Karasuma turned away from the monitors with a half-lidded stare.

“No, you don’t kid,” Talia sighed. “It’s just so… bizarre. If he hadn’t blown up the moon, he’d seem almost silly. Not harmless, but definitely silly.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, he found all of my cameras on day one.”

“In his apartment?”

“In the entire building. It’s like he could _hear_ the damn things.”

“Then he probably can," Karasuma decided, already reaching for a notebook and pen. "What did he do after that?”

“He acted like everything was normal. I only knew that _he_ knew because he adjusted the cameras to a better angle.”

His pen froze over the page. “What?”

“I checked. He even left a note in sharpie on one of them, saying ‘hope this helps!’ with a smiley face.” 

“That’s… not unusual for him.”

“At this point, I’m wondering what’s actually unusual for — speak of the devil.”

Karasuma turned back to the monitors. He watched on the small screen as the target closed his apartment door behind him, wearing — in his opinion — that ridiculous disguise, though at least the wig didn't sit askew on his head this time. The sculpted nose also looked more humanoid, if a little unsettling on his rubbery face. 

“What’s he doing?”

“Probably going for another convenience store run. He makes those at least three times a…”

A pregnant woman appeared on another monitor. Grocery bags hung off her arms and brown hair fell into her eyes as she struggled around the corner — and right towards the target.

“Is that—”

“Mai,” Taila gasped, sitting up straight. “Should I text her and tell her to—?”

The target disappeared from his screen. He reappeared in front of Mai, who froze in her tracks. Voices began crackling through the speakers.

_“What the—?!”_

_“Apologies, miss! I had no intention of startling you. It’s just that you seem to be a little overloaded at the moment. May I offer my assistance?”_

_“Uh…”_

_“I assure you, I have limbs to spare!”_

At that, more tentacles slithered out of his sleeves and hung expectantly in the air. Mai fumbled to say something, squinting through her bangs. 

_“I… uh, I can see that, but I…”_

_“It’s perfectly alright if you don’t want help. Say the word and I’ll leave you be! I just wanted to be sure rather than let someone struggle alone.”_

_“…well…”_

_“Yes, miss?”_

_“It’d be very helpful if you could carry a few… if that’s no trouble?”_

_“It’s none at all!”_

_“Thank you,"_ she sighed, brushing hair out of her eyes. _"Sorry, I just… wasn’t expecting this today.”_

Green stripes crossed the target’s face. _“I tend to be unexpected by most.”_

_“Oh, uh, I guess so, but I meant that my wife and I usually do this together.”_

_“How lovely that you help each other out! Where is she today, if I may ask?”_

_“Probably busy monitoring this building, since… you know. She’s actually the top surveillance expert in the country.”_

_“You sound very proud.”_

_“Oh, you have no idea.”_

Mai relaxed as the conversation continued. The target happily chatted back, taking most of the bags from her arms. They walked down the hall together until reaching her apartment, where she unlocked the door and went inside with a final, friendly good-bye.

Silence briefly hung over the monitoring room.

“…the guy that blew up the moon just helped my wife with our groceries. That really happened, right?”

“I… yes. Yes, it did.”

  
  


*************************************

_Karasuma collapsed. Searing pain blossomed in his right shoulder, and a hiss escaped from clenched teeth._

_“Sir?!”_

_“Aki?”_

_Another agent sprinted over. “Sir, you’re hurt! Let me see.”_

_“No,” he grunted. “Too vulnerable of a position. We’re compromised.”_

_“You’re gonna be more than compromised if I don’t see where you’re hit!”_

_“Fine. Here…”_

_Aki tore off his jacket and pressed it to the now-exposed wound. His brow furrowed at the darkening stain._ _“I don’t have the tools to stitch this up right now.”_

_“Doesn’t matter," Karasuma gritted out. "Get back up to protect the minister.”_

_“And leave you behind?”_

_”Aki—”_

_“No, sir! I won’t—”_

_Shots rang out. Somebody screamed—_

A hand squeezed his shoulder. Karasuma jolted awake and grabbed his gun.

The target slowly backed away. “Easy, now. You’re alright. It was just a dream.”

“How did you…?”

“I heard you shouting, so I came to check and found you like this. It sounded like you were in distress.” 

Karasuma lowered his gun. He rubbed at his eyes, sitting up in the chair and wincing. “I… I'm not in distress. Not physically.”

“But in other ways?”

“…yes.” 

“You sound as if this isn’t an uncommon occurrence.”

“Bad memories come with my job. I just have to deal with them.”

Steam suddenly whistled shrilly out of a tea kettle’s spout. 

_Wait. I didn’t have a tea—_

“Be as that may,” the target began, maneuvering to the stove and flicking off a burner, “it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t practice self care. I’d argue it makes it all the more important.” 

“Who made you the expert?” 

“Oh, no one in particular. Experience was largely my teacher.”

A pause followed. Then, Karasuma blinked in realization. “You have nightmares too.”

“Which means I’m familiar with the understanding that stress and anxiety can contribute to their frequencies… as you should also know.” As he spoke, the target carefully poured some of the contents of the kettle into a steaming mug and set it on the table. It sloshed with dark liquid and wafted a flowery, soothing scent.

“What’s this?”

“Lavender tea! I’ve found it’s wonderful for soothing my nerves before bedtime. Perhaps it’ll do the same for you.”

Karasuma took a cautious sip. He raised an eyebrow, then took another. 

“What do you think?” 

“Not bad. I… thank you.”

“You’re very welcome. I'll leave the kettle and teabags here if you wish to make more! And, ah, if I might ask one more thing…”

“Yes?”

“I’d be happy to coordinate more of our lesson planning. Not just as one educator to another, but also to ease some of our respective burdens.”

“You mean you don’t want me to be as stressed out.”

The target laughed nervously, fiddling with the hem of his nightshirt.

“…alright.”

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with that plan.”

“Really?!”

“Only because it should make it easier for the students to assassinate you.”

The target’s grin widened. It might’ve been the lavender tea at work, but Karasuma couldn’t help feeling a certain ease at the sight. 

  
  
  


***************************************

  
  


“…and that’s why you should increase their strength training!”

Karasuma sat at the target’s table, typing his notes for the week. They’d already gone over all the other subjects and discussed finals preparation. Then, an odd clacking sound reached his ears. He glanced up. 

The target continued rambling, but with two of his tentacles partially under the table. They wriggled in time with the clacking.

“What are you doing?”

“Parkour would be an excellent — huh?”

Karasuma pushed his chair back and peered under the table. The target flickered across the room. “Ahh, don’t look! It’s not done yet!”

“Is that a hat?”

His tentacles gripped a misshapen blob of yellow yarn, still clicking his knitting needles together.

“…a sweater.”

“Looks small for a sweater.”

“It’s for Talia and Mai’s baby,” the target whispered conspiratorially. “I’m using yellow since they don’t know the gender yet. They want it to be a surprise.”

Karasuma frowned. “Can’t you knit that in seconds?”

“Nanoseconds, actually. But not for this! _This_ is a gift, and gifts are at their most special when one takes time to make them with care.”

“…fair enough. Just don’t let it distract you.”

The next half hour passed quickly. They finished their lesson plans to the steady clatter of knitting needles, as well as the occasional counting of purls underneath someone’s breath. Finally, Karasuma closed his laptop. “That’s it for today.”

“Wonderful! Tell me, how does my knitting look?” the target asked eagerly, holding out the half-finished sweater. 

“I’m no expert, but I think it looks okay.”

“Oh, good. I want this to be special for such a special occasion.”

Karasuma raised an eyebrow. “You’re getting excited.”

“A new life coming into the world is always exciting. And babies are just so small and adorable!”

“They’ve always looked wrinkly to me.”

“Well, adorable to their parents, at least. Wouldn’t you feel the same if you had children of your own?”

Karasuma started to speak, then stopped. 

“You’re hesitating. Do… do you…?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does _that_ mean?!”

Sighing, Karasuma pulled out his phone and opened up his photo gallery. “Fine. I have a dog—”

The target leaned over his shoulder. A small black dog streaked with grey around the muzzle peered up at the camera. 

" _Ohmygoshthey'resoadorable!_ What's their name?"

“Katashi,” he said quietly. “I’ve had him since I was fifteen.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen him around here. Is he…?”

“Not yet. He has arthritis, but he’s hanging on at my parents’. This place doesn’t allow pets and I’m too busy to give him the care he needs.”

“I… I’m sorry.”

Karasuma looked over, surprised. The target’s eyes looked suspiciously damp. “Are you crying?”

“It’s just so bittersweet!”

“I guess it is. But I know he’s safe and as comfortable as possible. That’s all I can ask for at this point.”

“Spoken like a true parent,” the target sniffled, honking into a tissue. 

He glanced back down at the photos of Katashi. “Maybe.”

Later that evening, he and Talia ran into each other in the hallway. Talia clutched the finished yellow sweater. “Can you believe he made — oh.”

Karasuma held four small, yellow socks shaped for paws. “I can.”

“I’m totally using this.”

“…me too.”

  
  
  


***************************************

  
  


Sweat glistened on Karasuma’s forehead. Sighing, he stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hall to his apartment. He heard the strained whir of fans and air conditioners through closed doors. Dampness in the air clung to his bare forearms and suffused each breath with moisture. 

“There’s nothing like summer heat, is there?”

He turned around. The target’s head poked out of his door and into the hall with his customary grin. 

“What do you want?”

“H-huh?! Karasuma, I’m offended that you would imply such a—!” 

He closed his eyes. “It’s too hot for this. _I’m_ too hot for this. Just tell me what you want.”

The target deflated. “Oh, alright. I’ve made popsicles for the children to have after tomorrow’s drill. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind being a taste tester.”

“Can’t you do that?”

“Eh… my sweet tooth is a little too biased for this, I’m afraid.”

Karasuma thought it over. The idea of a popsicle — no, anything remotely close to cold — didn’t sound unappealing in the boiling heat. “Fine. I’m in.”

“Then I suppose I'll have to find — wait, really?”

“Yes, really,” he sighed. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

“In that case, come in! I just need to get the popsicles ready,” the target called, already zipping away from the door. Karasuma pushed it open, stepped inside and shut it behind him to keep in the cool air. He looked over his shoulder. 

“What flavors do you—”

He blinked.

The target bustled around in a forest green sundress. Its straps fit neatly over his rounded shoulders and the skirt billowed freely around his tentacle legs. Tiny white flowers dotted its fabric, all of them connected by designs of swirling, pale green vines. 

“There’s strawberry, grape, pineapple and… Karasuma? Are you alright?”

“I didn’t know you were going out,” he finally said.

“I wasn’t planning on it. Why would you think I… oh. I see.” 

“It’s not a disguise?”

“Not at all. It’s much more accommodating of my tentacles than other clothing, and I… I wanted to wear one. It felt right today.” The target’s voice went unusually quiet, and his — _her? their?_ — smile seemed strained. Only dripping popsicles broke the silence. 

“Okay.”

“E-eh?”

“Okay,” Karasuma repeated. “It’s… a good color for you.”

“…you really think so?”

“I think Irina would agree with me.”

It didn’t sound like much to Karasuma’s ears, but the target’s grin slowly relaxed into something more genuine. “She actually helped me choose it!”

“How’d you find one in your size?”

“It took some searching, but us ladies found it eventually.”

_Ah. There we go…_

“Oh, they’re melting!” she gasped. “Quick, start test-tasting!”

Karasuma spent the next few minutes trying out all the flavors. He admitted that while on the sweet side, they tasted very refreshing. In the end, the target thrust an entire container of them into his arms. “I went a little overboard, so you’re welcome to keep the extras.”

“Alright. Try not to melt in the heat before tomorrow.”

“This dress will make sure I don’t,” she chuckled, smoothing her tentacles over the skirt. “It’s very breezy! And did I hear some concern for me in there?”

“Only for the thought that our students wouldn’t get to take you out.”

The target just laughed and waved him out the door. 

As Karasuma later moved the popsicles to his freezer, he found a folded square of paper at the bottom of the container. He carefully unfolded it. 

_Thanks for not making a fuss. Your acceptance means a lot to me!_

Later, he would begin to privately ask for the target's pronouns each morning. No matter whether the answer was he/him, she/hers, they/them or some combination of the different options, he'd simply accept it and then ask if it was alright to use it around other people. The target's grin would always soften after these morning exchanges and Karasuma would try to ignore how it loosened something in his chest. 

But for just that moment, the corners of his mouth slightly quirked up.

*****************************

"We’ve got a situation.”

Karasuma excused himself from the Ministry building, pressing his phone closer to his ear. “What’s going on?”

“The cameras in the target’s apartment are blacked out. Someone covered them with trash bags.”

“The target?”

“We’re reviewing the footage. Right now, we have a bigger problem,” Talia said tersely. “The target hasn’t been seen in two days. The last time anyone saw him was when he went into his apartment Friday night.”

“Could he be somewhere else?”

“According to surveillance footage, not in this city or any other districts. There haven’t been any reported sightings in other countries, either.”

“Maybe he’s just—”

More voices spoke up in the background. Talia asked someone a question, then loudly swore.

“Talia? What’s—?”

“His door’s locked!”

“What?”

“You heard me! His door is _never_ locked, not even when he’s out!”

Karasuma broke into a sprint. “Right! New orders: prepare for a forced entry of the target’s apartment!”

“Sir!”

Four minutes later, he rushed into the lobby. Other tenants and agents crowded the room. Talia and Mai stood together, talking in urgent whispers while holding their infant daughter. They spotted him and Mai hurried over. “Team is ready, sir.”

“What about you?”

“I’m sleep-deprived, but otherwise fine. I can lead.”

Karasuma nodded. Mai pulled out her gun, and they joined the rest of the waiting team in the elevator. It was an uneasy ride up. 

When the doors opened, they were greeted with a silent hallway. The squad treaded soundlessly over the carpeted flooring and came to a halt in front of the target’s door. Mai slowly raised her free hand. They all tensed. 

She brought her hand down.

Immediately, the agents slammed their ram against the door. It banged open and they swarmed inside. 

“Japanese Ministry! Come out with your hands up!”

No one responded. Half-graded papers and tests lay scattered all over the furniture. Empty chip bags crinkled beneath their feet and a pungent, oddly-familiar odor hung over everything.

“Korosensei,” Mai called out. “Are you here?”

A faint groan reached their ears. 

“Bathroom,” Karasuma hissed. He and Mai crept to the door. 

“On three,” she mouthed. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

They burst in, guns drawn. “Hands — uh?”

“What the hell…?”

The target lay huddled in the bathtub, wearing only a thin nightshirt. A sickly green hue colored his skin. He faced the wall and wallowed in sticky yellow fluid up to his hunched shoulders. It was then that Karasuma finally placed the odor. 

“…mucus.”

“What?”

“That’s his mucus.”

“Really? Why is there so much of—”

“K… Karasuma?” 

“Octopus?”

The target slowly turned his head, blinking at them and revealing streams of mucus dripping down his face. “Whazz… happenin’?”

Karasuma frowned, noticing a flush to the rounded face. He reached out and pressed the back of his hand against rubbery skin. “What is it?” Mai asked, leaning closer. 

“He’s got a fever. I think he’s—”

“They,” a voice feebly interrupted. “Imma ‘they’ t’day.”

“I think they’re sick.”

“I didn’t even know they could be sick.”

“They shouldn’t be,” Karasuma realized. “Their immune system is too advanced. If they’re sick… whatever's making them sick is strong.”

“S’actly! There's m’ health lesson for th' day!”

Mai lifted her gun. “They’re getting delirious. Should we—?”

“No! No assassinatin’!” the target coughed, wobbling into an upright position. “Not like this! I jus’... I jus’ want…”

They trailed off. Tears suddenly cut through the rivers of snot. 

“Whoa, hey. What’s—?”

“I jus’ want m’ students t’ do it. Please…” they whispered in a cracking voice, curling into a tight, shivering ball of tentacles. “Please… let it be ‘em. S’all I want.”

For a moment, Karasuma felt as though he stood in a scorched field again, learning of the dying Reaper who decided to nurture young lives. Not just any young lives, but the ones who also stood in that field and surrounded them, wide-eyed and breathless and so _strong_ because of their training. The ones who had grown into assassins. The ones who deserved to end the Reaper's story. 

The ones that the _Reaper_ deserved to end their story. 

He lowered his gun. 

“Sir?”

“Stand down. They’re not going to hurt anyone like this.”

“But they—”

“I don’t think it would work,” he heard himself saying. 

“Seriously?”

“They’ve dodged bullets while nauseous and scared. This isn’t much different.”

Mai frowned, then hefted her gun. She squeezed the trigger. Suddenly, the target held a bath sponge. Their feelers parted just enough for a pink BB to fall out and skitter over the floor.

“…alright. It was worth a try, anyway.”

The target managed a weak chuckle. 

“Think you can handle the rest?”

“Yes. Initiate evacuation proceedings and ask someone to take samples.”

Mai left the bathroom, conveying his orders to the rest of the squad. Karasuma found himself alone with a delirious octopus.

“Octopus?”

“Mhm?”

“Can you move?”

Their tentacles shakily pushed them out of the tub. They staggered to the toilet and sat down, pressing wads of tissues to their nostrils. 

“Good,” Karasuma sighed. He rolled up his sleeves and took a washcloth from the nearby rack. “You just stay there for now.”

“M’kay…”

He ran the washcloth underneath lukewarm water. Then, he wrung it out before carefully draping it over the target’s forehead. 

“Mpmh?”

“It’s to help your fever go down.”

“Mmhm…”

The two sat there for an unknown period of time. After a while, a knock came at the door. Karasuma opened it a crack, revealing a person in a hazmat suit. “I’m here to take samples.”

He stepped aside. The scientist scooped up several vials of mucus and sucked the rest into hazardous waste containers, carefully sealing each one. 

“Status update?”

“The building’s been evacuated. All the tenants are going through decontamination and are quarantined under observation. Until we figure out what made the target sick, we’re not taking any chances.”

“Good. What’s the protocol for me?”

“Staying here. Consider it a form of quarantine in case you’ve been infected.”

Karasuma nodded, and the scientist left the bathroom. He waited until he heard the apartment door shut. Then, he turned back to the target, who now leaned against the wall with closed eyes. 

_Time to relocate…_

_**********************************_

"Ngh…” The target raised their head, squinting blearily at their surroundings. A washcloth slid off their forehead and hit the floor with a splat. 

“Octopus? You awake?”

“I… what—?”

Something loudly burbled. Cursing, Karasuma flicked off the burners and stirred the bubbling pot on the stovetop. The target struggled into an upright position. Their tentacles dug into the mattress beneath them and left small indentations in the fabric. 

“Karasuma, why am I in bed?”

He frowned, watching their reflection in the darkened window over the sink. “You don’t remember?”

“All I remember is feeling very… unwell. Come to think of it, I don’t feel completely healthy right now, either,” the target realized, wincing slightly. 

“That doesn’t surprise me.”

“What happened?”

“You weren’t seen since Friday. We had to break in and—”

“Wait, Friday? What’s today?”

“Monday.”

“ _Monday?!_ The children—”

“Are perfectly fine in Irina’s hands,” Karasuma sighed, taking the pot off the stove. He carefully poured out two bowls of steaming broth, noodles and vegetables. 

“ …oh. Good… though that doesn’t explain how I missed three whole days!”

“You got sick. Really, really sick.”

“But I _never_ get sick — er, motion sickness aside!”

“Our scientists were just as confused.”

The target suddenly stilled. “Scientists, you say?”

“Yes.”

“…just what exactly happened to me while I was out?”

Karasuma couldn’t remember the last time he heard such a loaded question. He again recalled that scorched field — or more specifically, the target's similarly shadowed face as they recounted Dr. Yanagisawa leering over their injections. Then he answered calmly, “Nothing. They just took samples of your mucus.”

“…alright. I believe you, Karasuma. I trust you.”

He didn’t have an answer to that. Instead, he handed over the bowl of soup and a large envelope. 

“What’s this?”

“Results of the testing on your mucus. Thought you’d want to see it.”

The target opened the envelope and flipped through its papers, carefully scanning each one. “So it was an artificial bug, then.”

“It was designed to trigger an overproduction of mucus in your systems, possibly up to the point of suffocation.”

“But it wasn’t strong enough to be successful, and…”

Their yellow face paled. 

“…and it could infect humans?”

Karasuma nodded grimly. 

A pause followed. Then, the target’s face darkened.

_Uh-oh._

“You’re saying this assassin endangered innocent lives in their attempt.”

“Hey. I don’t like it either, but—”

“Perhaps it wasn’t strong enough to overwhelm _my_ systems, but what about an ordinary human? What if I infected someone with the virus?! What if—”

“You didn’t.”

The shadow over their face faded. “What?”

“There’s been no reported cases in this building, this country or in any other nations you’ve visited recently,” Karasuma responded wearily. “We checked.”

“But how—?”

“We hoped you could help answer that question. When do you think you were infected with the virus?”

“Hmm... I first noticed the symptoms late Friday evening and... ah, grew so embarrassed that I covered the cameras. Not my smartest decision, but in my defense, I was feverish and not thinking clearly.”

“And before that?”

“I stopped in a café for dinner. I was finishing the last of my tea when there was a ruckus outside. So many rowdy young teens these days! Of course, I left immediately to help and—” 

They faltered. A nervous blue tinge rose on their forehead. 

“Let me guess. You left your tea unattended…”

A hesitant nod.

“…and drank the rest once you returned.”

The target just buried their face in their feelers, groaning. 

Karasuma sighed. “Alright. What matters is that nobody got hurt. If anything, your feverish quarantine kept anyone else from getting sick while you were still contagious.”

“And you’re positive that no one was—?”

“We’re all fine, including Talia and Mai’s daughter.”

They slumped over. “Thank goodness. To think an infant with an undeveloped immune system could’ve been harmed…”

“It didn’t happen, so you don’t have to think about it,” Karasuma said firmly. “Besides, the Ministry’s already tracking down whoever did this. They didn’t communicate with us and they almost infected civilians. Anyone with that kind of biotech shouldn’t be unsupervised, either.”

“I suppose that makes sense. Still, if your government manages to find this would-be assassin, I’d like to have a word with them.”

“I’ll see what I can do. But right now, you should probably eat your soup.”

“My…? Oh! So sorry, Karasuma! I’d completely forgotten,” the target apologized. They began spooning broth and vegetables into their mouth. Karasuma sat down on the floor, eating from his own bowl. He wouldn’t admit his relief at finding it to be perfectly bland and agreeable to a sick person. 

“This is delicious! I’m sure it’d taste even better if I weren’t still congested.”

“I just followed the directions, but thank you.”

“No, thank _you!_ You really didn’t have to do all of this, you know. Making soup, cleaning my apartment and… keeping my… fever down…” 

A look of realization dawned on the target’s face.

“Wait. You… you really did all of those things for me?”

Karasuma just stared down at his soup bowl.

“You did. You really care! You—!”

“Where’s your proof?”

“Eh?”

“The cameras were blacked out. You were delirious. What proof do you have?”

Everything fell into a puzzled silence. Karasuma relaxed slightly.

“The bed…”

He stiffened.

“You had to have moved me here!” the target gasped. “I was in the bathtub before and I… I remember you…”

_Don’t remember. Don’t remember. Don’t—_

“You carried me?”

Karasuma’s head jerked up. “Wh— how did—”

“Looks like someone cares about me after all!”

“Octopus. I swear—”

The target just laughed, flashing green stripes. 

“Well, somebody has to keep you alive if the kids’ll save you!” 

The target stopped laughing. 

_…damn it._

“Karasuma, you…”

_Damn it all to hell._

“You really meant that.”

“…if anyone can save you, it’s the kids.”

“I don't think that was exactly what you meant, though I’m inclined to agree.”

The target’s voice was gentle and a touch incredulous. Something about it broke the last of Karasuma's resolve, like it always seemed to do. “You’re smart,” he muttered. “You can figure out what I’m saying and what I mean.”

“I see... well, if you don’t mind, I’ll puzzle it out over this delicious soup of yours.”

“You better do it before it goes cold.”

"I'll do so gladly!"

Their smile softened into something bittersweet before they went back to slurping from their bowl. And while he'd never admit it... Karasuma might've allowed a tiny smile in return. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic! Here's some additional notes:
> 
> \- Korosensei is referred to as “the target” because this story is largely from Karasuma’s POV. Seeing as he almost never called Korosensei by his given name, I figured he would likely think of him in these terms.
> 
> \- I’ll admit to indulging one of my headcanons here, which is that Korosensei is genderfluid. He’s shown canonically wearing all sorts of clothing, from dresses to biker suits to his usual gender-neutral uniform, and it would help explain why he was so elusive as the Reaper: he rarely had consistent gender identity or expression from one day to the next. 
> 
> \- The song Korosensei sings in the shower is the aria “O Mio Babbino Carro,” in which the singer pleads her father for permission to marry her lover. Seeing how knowledgeable he is (and where his former profession might’ve taken him), I wouldn’t be surprised if Korosensei knew lots about opera. I also thought it was a sappy and dramatic sort of song he’d like.
> 
> \- Talia and Mai snuck their way into the story. I like to think Talia was born to American parents in Japan and Mai was a childhood friend. Together, they’re your friendly neighborhood power couple! 
> 
> \- Their daughter’s name is Hoshiko. She has vague but fond memories of those yellow sweaters she wore as a baby and toddler. Where they all came from, she still isn’t sure.
> 
> \- A bit of plot crept in near the end. If you’re curious, I’d guess that the assassin was hired by a certain masked man in white. (Yeah, it was Shiro.) 
> 
> \- (Also, Korosensei totally paid a visit to the would-be-assassin once he was caught. A pair of pants may or may not have been soiled.)
> 
> Many thanks to all of you again! I’m a little nervous to delve into this fandom, but please tell me how I did with these characters! Comments and constructive criticism are welcome; I'm always looking for new ways to improve my writing! :D
> 
> And a very Happy New Year to everyone! Here’s to a new decade!


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